Cathy and I just returned from a short camping trip on which we inadvertently discovered a new rule to live by. It could be that my judgment is a bit clouded at the moment, as my emotions are still running high from the ordeal, but right now I would say that this rule trumps all others, regardless of context:
NEVER BRING A TWO-YEAR-OLD CAMPING.
Every checklist in the world needs to be rewritten with this rule in mind. If you’re going on a trip, first make sure that it won’t involve camping with a toddler. If you’re planning a wedding, proceed only if you’re certain there won’t be any camping with two-year-olds. If you’re a heart surgeon, then before you crack open another patient’s chest, you really need to double-check — just to be safe — that you won’t end up getting roped into a camping trip with a toddler as a result of the operation you’re about to perform.
I’ll leave the details of the debacle to the reader’s imagination and focus on some positives here: (1) In the end, we did still decide to keep the two-year-old in question. (2) The child, who shall remain anonymous, seemed to have enough of a blast at certain moments on the trip that the hellish periods may indeed have been worth enduring. For him, at least. (3) We got to see a beautiful starry sky from the dark woods of Goose Island State Park.